A couple years ago, I got my first and only B in college. Thanks, multivariable calculus. Mostly, I remember sitting in section confused out of my mind as my TA talked about B coordinates and eigenvectors and stuff. The poor grade was partially my fault; living on the opposite end of the campus as lecture meant I did not go to office hours as much as I should have. As a result, while some girls in my class talked about how the professor was attractive enough to make up for the 12 hours of psets we had to do a week, I skipped lecture often enough that I didn’t even know what he looked like until the final exam. By then I was so tired from 10 straight hours of studying that I barely glanced at him before diving into the blue answer booklets.
I’d totally deleted Professor M and his class from my memory, until recently when I split up with the older man who’d taken my virginity and had been breeding me on the regular. He recommended I rebound with a friend of his, and as pissed off at him as I was at the time, well. When I met Professor M again (in the parking lot of a Denny’s of all places), I noticed all the things I hadn’t the first time: how tall he was, how he could definitely hold me down and keep me down, and how the touch of silver at his temples made him quite handsome.
“I’m unmarried, if that helps,” he joked. “I heard kids these days with their hookup culture like to have no strings attached.”
“I’m not THAT young,” I laughed. Professor M gave me a look.
“I like you as you are,” he said finally. I felt a broad, warm hand close over my right waist. “But first, I’m starving. You want to get something to eat? My treat.”
Our next two meetings happened like that as well. We’d meet up at a cafe or coffee shop (Denny’s, as it turns out, has terrible food). He’d pay for whatever I got, and we’d chat about ourselves – nothing sexual, since this was a public space, but it was cool hearing about Professor M’s research and I found myself enjoying his sometimes overly formal manners and flashes of humor. He was also quite interested in the consulting work I’m doing and asked a lot of questions about my future plans for graduate school. I had never gotten that personal with Sam before so it was kind of nice to be able to share that with someone who cared, at least a little.
At the same time, it was a relief when Professor M offered to drive me back to my apartment after our fourth meetup.
“I usually just take the subway,” I said slowly.
“Trust me,” Professor M said, “I’ll make it worth your time.”
Ten minutes later, he had his fingers under my skirt rubbing slow, teasing circles against my pussy through my underwear. The relief of finally being touched like that after several weeks had me arching and grinding where I was sitting on his lap in the backseat. A particularly rough stroke of his thumb over the nub of my clit made my legs quiver and wetness pool between my thighs. It wasn’t nearly enough, not after years of getting dicked down and bred deep on the regular. Professor M kept tight control though, refusing to speed up until I was whining from the maddening tease of it, that almost-there orgasm he was keeping clutched tight in his fist.
“I want to come,” I begged Professor M. “Daddy, please I need to come.”
“How long has it been?” he asked.
“Almost a week,” I admitted. “It’s been hard to get there with a vibrator.”
He hummed, and then, without warning, slipped his fingers underneath my soaked panties and began finger fucking me in earnest.
“Oh shit,” I remember wailing. It had been too long since I’d had this, and the relief of being desired by such a dominant, older man had me convulsing in his lap a couple minutes later in ecstasy, palms slapping and sliding against the car windows. My thighs were soaked and the seat of his pants was also damp from my pleasure. I looked at the obvious bulge. “Can I?” I asked uncertainly.
Professor M shook his head. “I’m not done yet.” He proceeded to make me come on his fingers twice more before sending me back to my apartment weak kneed and blazing with residual arousal. I spent the night riding a dildo and writhing on the sheets, unable to get any satisfaction from cumming, while imagining sucking off Professor M or getting pounded into the carpet of his office. Thankfully, he messaged me the next afternoon to come to his apartment.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/84z4l1/mf_sleeping_with_and_dominated_by_my_former
In retrospect, we should probably have had a formal conversation about our respective kinks. However, I can’t regret how well it worked out. Professor M is very old school , so this time there were no fancy fucking machines or vibrators. We took separate showers, and then he had me lay naked on his bedsheets with my legs held spread apart to either side. The curtains were completely open, exposing me in the afternoon sun. Professor M looked fascinated as he began to massage my vulva, pinching my clit and rolling it between his fingers, tracing the lips of my labia, and dipping into the hot, rapidly wetting space between my folds. I flushed at first, but soon forgot to be ashamed as Professor M eased three fingers inside me and began pumping up my G spot.
“Fuck,” I gasped at the deep, satisfying stretch, and then, “oh oh oh oh no” as I felt the insistent build of an orgasm tingling through my legs to gather in my core. Before I even had time to register it, I was shaking and whiting out, pussy clenching around Professor M’s fingers as a too-fast, almost painfully intense orgasm ripped through my body.
“That was great,” I heard him chuckle when I came back. In the next moment, I felt his fingers withdraw and the head of his cock popping past the outer muscles of my pussy as he rolled under me and slid home. “Fuck yeah,” Professor M grunted. Hands closed over my hips, moving me in time with his thrusts. I whimpered and bore down on the cock nudging relentlessly deeper inside me. “Give up that slutty tight ass of yours to me,” he said, slapping my rear to make me ride faster. By that point, I was mostly draped across his chest as he drove his cock into me again and again from below. Huge, warm hands squeezed my breasts as I bounced in time with the roll of his hips against my body. “Shit, you really do need to be fucked.” Professor M wrapped both his arms around my waist, dug his heels into the mattress for leverage, and grinned as I succumbed to wailing in pleasure as he began fucking into me at a relentless pace.
I lost sense of time, all feeling narrowing down to the grip of my pussy around Professor M and the friction of our fucking. It felt new, thrilling to be claimed like this by a man I barely knew, to be split open around his hot cock and used roughly like the tight, wet hole I was.
It didn’t take long for me to come again, this time like a slow melting, all the muscles in my body contracting over and over in painful orgasm as I sobbed and chanted “Daddy daddy daddy” into his grinning mouth. Distantly, I felt Professor M roll us over onto our sides as he fucked me through my orgasm. The reflection in his wall mirror was obscene: one of Professor M’s hands fisted in my hair, the other flicking my nipples lazily, a deep pink flush down both our chests, hair stuck to sweaty skin. One of my legs thrown over his for a deeper, better angle that made his dick jump inside me before he came in long, hot spurts against the walls of my pussy. “Good girl,” I heard Professor M murmur between soft grunts, and felt myself flush with pleasure.
After cleaning up, we both took a nap before Professor M ate me out again on his kitchen counter. Worn out physically and mentally, I nevertheless cried out in relief when he slid back inside me, the delicious stimulation of his cock rubbing me all over, lighting me up. Then he scrubbed over my clit roughly with the pad of his thumb and that was it. “We can’t do this,” I begged, followed by “Fuck – yes. Feels too good.” I came panting into his mouth, fingers digging into his back as he forced my quivering legs apart and pounded the greedy red slit of my cunt before finally filling me up again, shoving in tight and making sure every last drop of his cum ended up where it belonged.
“By the end of the year, you’ll be pregnant with my baby,” Professor M whispered as we caught our breath. “I’ll breed you as many times as it takes until you catch.”
I shivered in excitement. Since our first time, Professor M has done his best to make damn good on his promise.
So good. I love your writing. ❤️ So sexy.
Wow.. That was hot!!!
May I ask what happened to you and Sam?
Your writing is scorching hot, I loved it! ? More Daddy stories please!